The Fear of Something New (Revised)
by Star-Of-Radiance
Summary: After the fall of Voldemort, dangers still run high in the US. With alarming tension rising with the No-Maj community, the fanatical Salem Purists and Harry Potter coming to America- just before the Quidditch World Cup, MACUSA's president orders an agent to go up north- to investigate reports about strange creatures and disappearances in Forks, Washington- with outstanding results.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Harry Potter_ , _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ or the _Twilight_ series. So please don't sue.**

* * *

 **Agents at Hand**

For a long moment, there was a deafening silence. The lights glittered on the Queensboro Bridge, the sounds of traffic; cars honking, drivers cursing, brakes and tires screeching could be heard.

A stray cat sniffed a pile of soda cans and fast-food wrappings from an overturned trash can. Suddenly a faint popping noise resounded through the air, and then another.

Two figures draped in black, hooded cloaks raised their wands simultaneously at one another before freezing as they recognised each other.

"I take it your mission went well," one voice- a man's- said.

"I always deliver the results," the other person- a female said- stowing away her wand.

"Will they come?"

"Oh indeed they will," there was the faintest hint of satisfaction in the woman's voice.

"And DOMASIA?"

"The Head of Magical Operations will be a problem," if he didn't know better there was a hint of annoyance in her voice. "But not by much. They will go north."

"North?" He asked. "To Forks?"

"Yes. As per our agreement." She stated.

"Huh." He looked away. "And you are sure America is the right place?" He asked.

"The United States of America is the best place for this, you know this," she said. "We have our orders, Michel." Her dark eyes glittered at him beneath the hood.

Beneath his hood, Michel frowned. "Why because this is the most powerful nation for these _Moldu-"_ he frowned.

"No-Majes," she answered, "they call them that in America- no-Maj, for the singular form, short for 'No Magic'. And the answer is, only partly. These _No-Majes_ have sworn in a new president. His rhetoric and attitude to those he deems undesirables have, no doubt, alarmed the entire non-magical world. Imagine what he will do when he uncovers the existence of magic and those who practice it."

"This," Michel took one step closer to her, "is bordering dangerously close to suicide. If we cannot win-"

"I have nothing left to lose, Michel," she said quietly, looking up at him in the eye. "But for those of you who do, you have everything to fight for. Besides, we are simply the ones to flick our fingers over the head of the man, who, by his own stupidity, already teeters over the edge of a cliff. Did we push him? Maybe. Did we tell him to go to the cliff? Never. Let them pay for their own mistakes. It only adds to the list of deeds they are accountable for."

She turned around, glancing briefly at him.

"No, what concerns me is that the Chosen One-" she scoffed when saying those words. "Will be coming. We all know Harry Potter is a Quidditch fan, having played as the youngest Seeker in a century. He won't miss this. And neither will the others."

* * *

 _Manhattan, New York City, USA…_

 _2_ _nd_ _of March, 2014…_

The lady stared up at the gigantic building.

Her eyes narrowed, as she ignored the countless admiring stares and gaping she received from onlookers, as she strode forwards, black heels clicking on the flagstones as she approached her very important- and secret- meeting.

The tall Woolworth Building loomed like an ominous shadow ahead of her, but she paid it no heed as she approached.

Gripping her wand beneath her sleeve, she glided past No-Majes and disguised wizards and witches, dressed in an impeccably tailored, black pinstripe skirt-suit, patent-leather black pumps, and a tasteful but modest handbag, her hair pulled in a sleek ponytail.

She showed her ID at the revolving door and without even stopping to glance towards them (this meeting was urgent, no time for pleasantries, they knew who she was anyway), she stepped through.

Through the glass of the revolving doors, the scenery of the No-Maj building and its inhabitants changed, spinning with the door, blurring and shifting into another scene; a brilliantly-lit, cavernous foyer with a seven-hundred-and-fifty foot high arched ceiling, more suited for a Gothic cathedral than anything, accented in black and gold and filled with space, light and colour. Gilded phoenix statues coated in gold leaf, rippled their metallic feathers standing at the pinkish stone pillars of a canopy, beneath which lay stone statues, a monument of the innocents killed at the notorious Salem Witch Trials.

High above, the Magical Exposure Threat Level Measurer (which measured the level of the threat of the exposure of magic to the non-magical world), hung. It looked slightly like a No-Maj barometer, only with four faces and black hands. Right now, it pointed at green- the threat of magical exposure was rather low. So far, so good- but for how long?

Adsila's mood darkened as she reflected upon that thought. She did not need to have the Sight to know that dark times or at least an enormous deal of tension was ahead.

METLM wasn't aimed at level zero, but at low threat, hovering dangerously close to moderate-level threat. Beneath the device a picture of Samuel G. Quahog, current president of MACUSA, nodded calmly at employees and visitors alike. The forty-foot high phoenix statues turned their heads curiously towards her, surveying her curiously, then seemed to reassure her with slight nods of their heads. Walking past the employees and visitors, she approached an elevator and reception desk. "Adsila Sizemore, Head of Operations in DOMASIA, to see the president. He's expecting me." She said and the doors flew open.

President Samuel G. Quahog was known to be a fair man, respected by his colleagues, juniors and his superiors before he became president. He was also incredibly patient, unbiased, supportive, reasonable, respectful and unprejudiced. A brilliant tactician, a hard-worker and a highly skilled diplomat, after years of ups and downs, the terrifying threat of Voldemort and his armies invading, a fluctuating economy, No-Majes wreaking havoc and more, they _needed_ peace. Peace and quiet, everyone was desperate for them. And somehow Samuel Quahog seemed to have the ability to reassure just about everyone.

However, he knew it was too good to last. Just a few months ago, they had crowded over to watch No-Maj television- an unusual occurrence perhaps, but Adsila Sizemore, the Head of Operations in DOMASIA (the Department of Magical and Secret Intelligence Agency), had found it necessary to inform some of the most powerful members of MACUSA and the various representatives of other magical creatures in the USA of the No-Maj president-elect. They had watched his campaign- which sounded like a huge load of nonsensical garbage to Samuel. He didn't understand why this guy had a thing against people of different countries of origin or religions. It was a whole load of wampus dung, especially to wizards and witches, partly because they themselves have never adhered that strictly to religion and in any part of history, never had they discriminated against anyone based on gender, ethnicity, or similar attitudes. No-Majes had never seemed as stupid as when they were doing that, someone pointed out, and everyone else had had to disagree. Not even Voldemort and Grindelwald had done that.

But as bamboozling and nonsensical this man's rhetoric and as vulgar as he was, Adsila pointed out that he presented a very real, genuine threat. "If he poses a threat towards his own kind, imagine how he will react should he ever uncover the existence of magic and those who practice it."

Just then, the doors flew open, interrupting the president's thoughts and revealing the person he had expected: Miss Sizemore herself.

Even at a distance (his office was quite large), the younger Sizemore sibling was a jaw-dropping, eye-popping sight:

An _extremely_ beautiful young woman with flawless, silky amber-coloured skin, seemingly glowing with a rich sheen in shifting shades of amber, honey, copper, bronze and molten gold. Her black hair glistened like it was coated with dew-drops and at first everyone thought it glowed with the same sheen but simply realised that it captured and reflected light. Her eyes were the deepest, clearest, haunting shade of amber-gold and honey-brown; almond-shaped and fringed with thick, long and curling black lashes. Adsila's cheeks were rosy-hued, her lips were full, and her face and features delicately shaped and moulded. Even dressed in clothes that would not look out of place in a No-Maj office, he noticed the skirt suit was tailored perfectly to her beautiful form, and displayed her dismayingly attractive legs.

 _This is the reason there were so many complaints in DOMASIA's department amidst her superiors then_ , Samuel reflected dryly. Even though Adsila had been a founder, back then nearly all the agents had had a _serious_ crush on her.

 _I'm amazed she overcame all that,_ Samuel thought to himself. _Her superiors weren't giving her an easy time because of the attention she was receiving. Even as an agent, it would've been difficult to go undercover because of what she looked like._ But now Adsila was Head of Operations- the most senior member of DOMASIA and one of the most powerful in MACUSA.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. President?" She spoke gliding through.

"Yes, Adsila, please sit down," he stood from behind his desk, and gestured towards the sofa. Samuel took the armchair opposite her.

"I'm sure you are aware that I have taken your advice and met with the previous No-Maj president beforehand," Samuel said, sitting down. "He seems to be of the same opinion: it wouldn't be the smartest course of action for us to make contact with him."

Two cups of steaming herbal tea on saucers appeared. Adsila and the president took one and after a cautious sip, she watched Samuel grimace.

"And we were just beginning to establish ties with the No-Maj community," she muttered. "That's a real shame." Unlike in many other countries, America in the past, did not have their heads of state keep frequent contact and cooperation with their No-Maj counterpart. They were only just beginning to, but not every No-Maj president was reasonable and trustworthy. Once again, they had had to pull out and isolate themselves.

"Some people are considering a renewal of Rappaport's Law," Samuel stated. "But, with all due respect, sir, that would only serve to heighten the paranoia gripping our communities," Adsila said with narrowed eyes. "And do nothing to ease tensions."

"I know," he sighed. The warm, soothing sensation left by the tea evaporated. "But that's not the only problem we have."

Adsila's eyes narrowed further into honey-amber-coloured slits. She knew what he was referring to.

He looked her straight in the eye. "There are few people I can trust with this, what with the Salem Purists running around wild," he stated, referring to the fanatically anti-magic No-Maj group gaining a great deal of attention recently. "In two months the four-hundred-and-twenty-second Quidditch World Cup begins in Argentina, and the fans will go nuts if they can't travel to watch it live because it's too dangerous- or worse, if it gets cancelled because of heightened security. Right now, we're dealing with cleaning and clearing any magical accidents and messes, and due to the tensions, MACUSA's governing body have passed the bill to raise the penalties for any crime that threatens to expose us higher."

Adsila nodded. "To make things worse there are the reports about mysterious creatures, seen north in the state of Washington, near the whereabouts of the first attacks- mysterious creatures, unlike any previously known to North America, un-encountered by wizards and witches. Things which made the No-Majes who report them, sound like vampires and werewolves, only that they aren't like any vampires or werewolves that any wizard have ever encountered. Dementor sightings too, which is, of course, illogical, since wards surrounding the United States, as is in various countries, preventing the entry of dark creatures, ever since the fall of the Dark Lord."

She made a face. "Yes, Mr. President, I've seen the reports." She put the tea down. "None of which make sense. As far as we know there are no vampires in Washington. Or Maryland, or Virginia. Or werewolves. But these do not sound like werewolves. Lycanthropes only transform during the full moon. These were rumoured to have been seen in broad daylight, nighttime or twilight. Could they be Animagi? Perhaps, but it is not likely. Never have there ever been such a large crowd of only one kind of animagi: the type that transforms into wolves. Are they simply beasts? I do not know." She frowned. "I've consulted with my own tribal elders on this, in North Carolina and Rhode Island. We've found nothing."

Samuel grimaced.

"What about the tribes up north?" He asked.

"They do not contain magic," Adsila said softly. "As far as we know. There may be a basis in some of their legends, but we would need to send a few covert agents to find out."

"Please do," Samuel nodded. That was the approval she needed. "In the meantime, may I suggest placing all the other agents on alert?"

"Of course, Mr. President." She agreed. "A wise decision." She frowned. "The No-Majes are becoming increasingly hostile with their new president. Apparently people have been barred from entering the United States, even if they are residents here. There have been a lot of protests in the streets. If I may ask, will there be any form of alert for our citizens?"

Samuel paused. "Not yet. But most likely, soon." He gave a wry smile. "Keep an eye out for what the METLM says."

"Of course, Mr. President." Adsila replied. "I'll let them burn me alive before failing you all."

* * *

 **Like I've said, this is an improved version of the Fear of Something New.**

 **For those who haven't read the original story, that's okay. But just so everyone knows, the OCs here are Native American (Adsila is a Cherokee name). Now, I've heard that J.K Rowling has- I'm certain _accidentally_ \- offended some Native Americans with her wording when she wrote about Ilvermorny, but as her books are about beating prejudice, I think we should cut her some slack, especially as she changed her wording: instead of using the word 'segregation' for example, or 'the refinement of wandwork' (she was referring how Native Americans eagerly learnt that from European settlers in exchange for their traditional practices). No, it's not the first time something this has happened, after all, Selkies are creatures from Scottish and Irish folklore that turn into exquisite maidens after they've shed their seal coats, but in her canon, they're another species of merpeople that aren't as attractive as their warm-water cousins, the Sirens (again, another country's mythology). **

**That's something that's VERY common with authors, not just Rowling. Stephanie Meyer has taken Quileute legends and changed it to suit her canon- even the native Quileutes don't seem to be _too_ offended people think of them as big, buff werewolves. And witches and wizards from Rowling's canon don't have the same prejudices as muggles/No-Majes, like sexism and racism (based on ethnicity). So I'm putting vit that Native American witches and wizards definitely played as great a role within MACUSA as any witches and wizards of other ethnic backgrounds. Seraphina Picquery, was after all, an African-American _and_ a woman who became president in 1920s America where women and African-Americans were second or third-class citizens.**


	2. Chapter 2

_Ministry of Magic, Britain..._

Mr. Harry Potter, Head Auror, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, you name it, was striding down the hallway, checking his schedule- and his watch every few minutes.

"Remember," Hermione instructed him, "we've got that dinner tonight in the Burrow."

"Right," Harry said without looking up. "This is my stop," Hermione said, as the elevator skidded to a halt. She stepped out.

Not long after Harry reached the auror office, when a voice shouted out: "Mr. Potter! a word, please!"

Harry turned. At first he thought it was a reporter, like that pesky Rita Skeeter (in which case, how did they get here?), but he saw that the witch in question was much more petite, with chestnut finger-waves in a haircut that ended just below her jaw, and she wore dark emerald robes, no quill and no glasses.

"Mr. Potter." The witch panted as she came to a halt. "My name is Miranda Fawley of the British Wizarding Genealogists. We've met before."

Harry blinked. Yes, he remembered briefly meeting a witch that looked like her during this presentation about magical genetics- which shocked the wizarding world. Despite expecting it, just like Ron, to be a purely boring evening, what they had discovered stunned them to the core. The entire magical world was in an uproar ever since, as the witch in question, Victoria Artrigos, had discovered how some non-magical parents were able to produce a magical child. She had recently come from America, she said, to research. After discovering some interesting histories, including corrupt wizards and witches who sold their fellow mages over to non-magicals for a bit of gold, she noted that these so-called Scourers, had descendants, and they often either killed or abandoned any child of theirs that looked capable of magic (as they didn't want to risk discovery themselves). But the non-magical, or squib children they had with Muggles- called No-Majes in America- were kept. And they had descendants, some of which had magic. Some of whom were now integrated into American magical society and were referred to as No-Maj-born. And this, she stated, had never been discovered before as no one listed squib births.

So Hermione _had_ been related to Hector Dagworth Granger, that famous potioneer that Slughorn mentioned. She'd been a bit frustrated and put-out that she had never discovered this ( _'Why didn't I see it before?!'_ ), but grateful. Now, that he thought about it, this witch, Miranda Fawley, had been one of Victoria Artrigos' assistants on stage. "Yes- I remember."

Miranda nodded. "Mr. Potter, I'm not speaking to you on a whim, but before the news breaks out, both here and in the United States, I think you would like to know this."

Now Harry was bewildered. "Know what?"

Hesitantly she glanced around. "Perhaps you'd like a private word in my office?" Harry suggested. "Yes, that would be best."

The moment they stepped in, Miranda produced an envelope. "To be opened... After this meeting," she said awkwardly. "Not from me, Mr. Potter."

Harry was befuddled. "Then from who?"

In answer, Miranda waved her wand. An amazing series of lines made of light, sprung forwards, dancing in the air, trickling like water droplets on a window in the rain. A table sprang up- no, it was a family tree."

"Your family tree," Miranda stated. "I'll make this short, unless you wish to hear the full version later, in which case you can always contact us." She caused the picture (which must have shown only part of the family tree) to go upwards and focus on a name in particular.

"Your ancestor, Mr. Potter," Miranda explained. "Ralston Potter. He was a member of the Wizengamot in favour of supporting the International Statute of Secrecy, instead of declaring outright war upon Muggles, unlike the more militant members who chafed at the idea of going underground."

Harry nodded absently, wondering what this was about.

"But long story short, around New Year 1623, one of his sons, named Henry Potter left his village of Godric's Hollow, taking his wife and young sons along with him. He sailed to the Americas. Later on, Henry's son Abraham became one of the first aurors of the newly-formed Magical Congress of the United States of America."

Harry stared in astonishment. "I never knew that." To tell the truth, he didn't know much about his family, except for what he had been told about his parents, what he had glimpsed in photographs, Pensieve memories, the _Priori Incantatem,_ the Resurrection Stone and what he had heard from his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia (most of which he now knew were lies). He didn't even know the name of his grandparents.

"Well... MACUSA, as it was known, was short of wizarding law enforcement. Abraham Potter was one of the first twelve volunteers." She waved her wand and another picture emerged: that of a stone sculpture, showing a group of wizards and witches heroically pointing their wands to light the way. At the forefront was a man who bore a remarkable resemblance to Harry- or rather his father James- with a mop of untidy hair which Harry knew was black, and... Were those round glasses? Did they have round glasses in the 1620s?

"The dangers and the challenges they faced were on an unprecedented scale, especially with such a large territory to cover as the United States of America. Sadly, out of the original twelve, only two survived to old age. Abraham Potter was not one of them, but he did leave quite the legacy behind. The descendants of these aurors are still respected in magical America- including the Potter family in the US."

At this Harry froze, turning towards Miranda Fawley. "You mean-" he began.

"Yes," she said.

"I have relatives-"

"Yes, Mr. Potter, you have family in America. And they, like you, have only recently discovered their connections to you." She handed him a sheet of paper. "This is a brief history of the Potter family summarised. But the previous envelope I gave you contains a letter from your relatives from the United States, hence why we didn't open it."

Harry stared, stunned towards this woman. "The press will be excited to hear this," she warned him. "But if you have any inquiries, please do not hesitate to owl the Department of Magical Genealogy in Britain, I'm on level four, Office Five."

Mutely, Harry nodded, gripping those two papers tight. The family tree vanished, alongside the picture of Abraham Potter, Harry's relative, and the last remaining link he had to a family apart from the Weasleys, his wife and children.

And that, unlike his parents, they were still alive. They were still alive after all this time.

Harry realised that he was gripping the envelopes too tightly.

He had never known about his grandparents. Lupin had once told Harry that his father, James, was a pure-blood, and his Aunt Petunia once said that her parents had been 'so proud' of having a witch in the family- something he now knew was borne of jealousy. She had been a muggle-born, his mother. Both sets of Harry's grandparents had died before he was born, otherwise he would have been raised by his maternal grandparents rather than his aunt and uncle who despised magic and made him wear Dudley's old things and sleep in a cupboard. They shared his mother's blood, so the protective charm, that worked thanks to the sacrifice his mother Lily had given him, could have kept him safe if he had lived with his grandparents.

Harry had caught a brief glimpse of the entire Potter family through the Mirror of Erised, once in his first year of school. Dumbledore had warned him. It was only reflecting his deepest desires. To know, to see, to glimpse and learn about his family as a child, the family he never had.

And now he was getting his chance. Harry seized the first envelope and opened it. He would look at the second one later, at home, with Ginny and his family- if the kids could sit still, that was.

He eagerly read the contents:

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _My name is Anthony or Tony Potter, and my wife Marion and I are delighted to hear of our family in Britain._

 _We have heard of you, across the pond, all the way in the United States, but we never would have guessed that you were family, in spite of the family resemblance, which I now realize, was hard to miss! We are both aurors and my daughter points out that we have the same untidy black hair which my wife complains is impossible to manage during office parties!_

 _My parents, on the other hand did know about our relation to one another, as they once visited Britain, to meet your grandparents, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter during their stay._

 _As mentioned, my wife's name is Marion and I have three children: my sons, Lucas and Mathew- or Matt and Luke as we call them- and our daughter Hazel. Our boys attend Ilvermorny and are due to start their third and seventh years, whereas Hazel is still quite young._

 _I don't know if you will be happy to hear that you have family in America. I know of your history Mr. Potter, and we deeply regret not being there with you during your struggles, especially as during the Wizarding Wars, the magical countries of America forbade travel to and from Britain and anywhere where there had been support for the Dark Lord. I know we have no right to say that we are proud to have you as our relative, but we are greatly honored, nevertheless, to know that our children share an ancestor with someone who's done so much for the entire magical world. We wish we could have done more, and if you wish, we hope to make your acquaintance someday._

 _Our school terms are similar to those in Britain. This year we intend to go to Argentina, to the Patagonian Desert for the Quidditch World Cup. If you would like, you and your family, and whatever friends you wish, are welcome to stay with us in New York prior to the World Cup and travel to Argentina with us._

 _We hope yo hear your reply,_

 _Yours truly,_

 _Anthony Potter_

Harry read the letter in amazement. How could his relatives think that he would not wish to hear from or to see them? That he might resent them for not knowing and for being an ocean away...

So his relative's name was Anthony or Tony. He had a wife named Marion, and three children, Lucas, Mathew and Hazel. His parents had known Harry's grandparents and met them in Britain... Did they, by any chance, meet James Potter too? Harry's father? What were his grandparents like? What was the family like in America, were they safe?

So many questions, none yet answered. Harry tucked away his letter in his mokeskin pouch, the one given to him by Hagrid during his seventeenth birthday, and decided to bring this up with Ginny, Ron and Hermione.

* * *

"What?" Hermione demanded. "Are you serious, Harry? You have family in America?"

They stared at him, astonished.

Harry, unable to contain his grin, beamed at them, nodding.

"But that's amazing," Hermione exclaimed. "Where?"

"Anthony- or Tony said they live in New York," Harry explained. "And that he's an auror, works for MACUSA."

"What?" Ron, James, Albus, Hugo and several others asked.

"It stands for the Magical Congress of the United States of America," Harry explained.

"Blimey, that's a mouthful," Ron muttered.

"Harry that's wonderful," Ginny exclaimed, gently, beaming with delight. "And have you replied?"

Harry hesitated. "Actually I haven't. There's something I want to discuss with you first."

Everyone stared at him, patiently waiting for his explanation.

"They've invited us over to New York," Harry began. "They're going to the Quidditch World Cup in April, and they're inviting us to come over and travel with them to Argenina."

Ginny beamed at this and Hermione covered her mouth with her hands. "Why that's brilliant, Harry," Mrs. Weasley began. "Do you want to go?"

"Come on, Dad, we hardly get to go anywhere," his son James complained. "Yeah, Dad, just this once!" Albus pleaded.

James and Albus were ten and eight, respectively, but Lily was nearly six, still quite so young, which was why Harry and Ginny both hesitated, but one look at Harry and Ginny knew he very much wanted to go and to bring his children with him.

"Alright then," Ginny beamed. "Why not. Why don't you come along, Ron, Hermione?"

"Us?" Ron said.

"Yeah, why not?" Harry elaborated. "They might want to see you as well."

Ron looked at his wife. Hermione bit her lip. "I don't know," she fretted. "The children are so young, and we've hardly ever been away for so long away from work."

"C'mon, Hermione," Ron complained. "We could use a break, spend time with the kids. Plus, it'll be an educational experience for them," he encouraged enticingly. "To go overseas. To learn more about the wider magical world. Establish relations with MACUSA or whatever it's called."

Ron himself had never been outside of Britain save for that time when he went to visit Bill in Egypt.

Hermione gave him a long-suffering look. "Please Mum," Rose begged her.

Hermione sighed. "Very well."

The children cheered in excitement. There were some complaints on the others who wanted to go.

* * *

It wasn't long before Harry replied to his American relatives and after a short correspondence, preparations were made for the journey.

Trunks were packed, pets were fed and safely handed over to caretakers for the journey. James and Albus both protested, but Ginny was adamant. They already had Harry, Ginny, James, Albus, Lily, Ron, Hermione, Rose and Hugo. That was more than enough for their hosts, they didn't want to add to the burden and experiment on the boundaries of their relatives' hospitality.

And the children had been given a stern telling that they were to behave themselves and follow instructions to the letter- or be sent back home before the Quidditch World Cup even began. With that threat, there were no more arguments.

Finally they loaded their trunks into the car, waved goodbye to their grandparents and off they went.

"So how will we be getting there?" Albus asked suspiciously. "Not by train. Hogwarts Express- right? Unless we have a flying train."

James laughed.

"No, we'll be heading off to the nearby port," their mother explained. Lily squirmed in her seat.

"Port?" James asked. "We're going by ship?"

"No," Harry answered. He veered to the left.

"Then how?" Ginny frowned as well. "Yes, Harry, how? Are we going by muggle airplane?"

"Those things that muggles use to fly?" Albus asked, puzzled.

Harry paused. "You remember that lady we went to see, Gin? At the presentation?"

"Who finally solved the thousands-year-old mystery of how children with no magical parents have magic," Ginny muttered. "Yes, I remember her. Victoria Artrigos, right?"

"Victoria Artrigos," Harry agreed. "She's a genius. It's not official yet, but she's invented and discovered a whole lot of things. She's also modified many muggle things-"

"Which is why many people are able to see the World Cup live," Ginny remembered.

"And some of these are methods of international travel which aren't just same," Harry explained. "They're easier to keep track, especially if you come from different countries, or you're bringing in things which aren't necessarily permitted by law in some countries. Like magic carpets aren't allowed here in Britain. They're not considered safe either. However, since she's already made recent headlines, Victoria Artrigos has decided to wait a bit before announcing her latest invention."

"And what's that?" The boys- and their mother- asked.

"Just wait and see," Harry said amiably, to grumbles.

Once the Wizarding Wireless had been considered outstanding. Now Victoria Artrigos' magical television, available only to magical individuals, had usurped it. Understandably, radio companies weren't very happy, but there was little they could do.

"Here we are." Harry came to a stop.

Ginny and her children leaned forwards and squinted. What appeared to be in front of them could have been a long, low building or a factory. Or a muggle airplane hangar. It was blank and white.

But it didn't look like it was anywhere near an airport terminal, tracks or sea. "There." Harry pointed. He rolled down the window.

"Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley Potter, James Potter, Albus Potter and Lily Potter," Harry hastily explained. "Travelling from London to New York."

Outside was a blank box and a security guard in a muggle uniform. He nodded. "Do you have papers."

Harry produced some sheets. The man waved his wand and they floated into the air. Pressing his wand over them, the wand emitted light which scanned the papers and showed strange patterns and runes, glyphs and symbols which few people could read and understand. The man nodded. "We need to scan everyone inside."

"Of course," Harry agreed. The gates swung open and the family drove through. Harry didn't even hesitate. When the kids were sure they were going to collide with a brick wall, they passed smoothly through- but not before they received a peculiar sensation like warmed water was being washed over them, passing every inch of their skin, every strand of their hair, every thread and seam in their clothing was being checked. At the same time, an explosion of lights occurred in front of them, and illuminated what they wore, the lights passing and checking every inch, not missing a single thing.

"Whoa," James breathed. He glanced at himself. He wasn't wet, and neither were Albus and Lily.

Suddenly, they realised everything was dark. But lights appeared up ahead, arrows pointing to a certain spot in the darkness. Harry followed them, and the car parked safely... Before everything went into a blur.

The car vanished, seemingly pulling its occupants in high speeds, but for less than three seconds, before they realised they were somewhere else entirely.

They were in a large, high and wide, building of grey metal and eerie green and blue lights everywhere. Harry drove the car on and parked it at space nearby. "Come on," he urged.

"Harry-" Ginny began. "It's fine, Gin."

They got out of their cars, and a trolley rolled out of nowhere, causing James to jump. He cursed softly, and some things popped out from the trolley from either side, like bubbles, solidifying into two more trolleys. More copies of the trolley popped from either side. "Thank you," Harry said to a nearby goblin who nodded his head, then vanished.

"Put your things here," Harry instructed. "Ron and Hermione'll meet us there."

"There where?" James asked.

"You'll see," was his father's only reply. As soon as the trunks were loaded onto the trolleys, they began moving towards a glass elevator.

"Harry James Potter," Harry said clearly to a mannequin that hung on the wall, wearing a pirate's uniform. "Ginevra Molly Weasley Potter. James Sirius Potter. Albus Severus Potter. Lily Luna Potter."

Silence. Then the mannequin opened its mouth. "Please step forwards." It said in a female voice. "One at a time, please."

Harry nodded. He stepped forwards. The trolleys rolled to once side. "Stretch out your arms." He did just that. The floor beneath him began to shift forwards. His family watched behind as beams of light scanned him from head to toe. "Please answer: when is your date of birth?"

"Thirty-first of July, 1980," he answered. "Your Alma Mater?" "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." "Who are you married to, and the names of your children?" "Ginevra, or Ginny Weasley Potter, and my children are James Sirius Potter, Albus Severus Potter and Lily Luna Potter." He answered calmly. A great beam of pink light passed before him, scanning every inch of him, before he promptly vanished. Ginny glanced at the trolleys. They were undergoing a similar process, without the questioning, before disappearing into nothing.

"Next please." Ginny sighed, prepping herself to do the same treatment. "Follow me okay?" She ordered her children. "And stay put. It'll be okay."

Once that was done, all the Potters found themselves into a glass elevator, scanned repeatedly by beams of light, which Albus was beginning to find annoying. "Our things are being taken care of," Harry assured them. "And-" he was cut off when a great beam of golden and silvery light passed through them. "That's our vessel."

Albus squinted and leaned forwards. It was a massive, long metal cylinder, with radiating with light, up to twenty kilometres in length and very wide. "Lily, hold on to mummy's hand. James, Albus, stay close."

The elevator ground to a halt, before rising into the air. "Look, there they are, want to wave, Lily?" Harry asked his daughter. Lily eagerly and excitedly waved, giggling at the glass elevator containing Hermione and a very confused Ron and their kids.

"Our landing platform is nearby," Harry said. "We're going on that thing?" Ginny asked, sounding bewildered, nodding towards the gigantic cylinder. "What is it?"

"An International Magical Transport Liner," Harry explained. "I.M.T.L for short."

"And... Victoria Artrigos made this?" She sounded baffled.

"Yes, at best we have only a few hours, a day at most, to get to America, it's perfectly safe," he assured her.

Nevertheless it was all too bizarre, Ginny thought as the elevator slowed to a halt, and the wall in front vanished. "Landing platform for New York. Directions to the Potter family cabin straight, turn left and then turn right."

"Thank you," Harry called out, ushering the boys whilst Ginny took Lily's hand. They stepped inside the liner. The corridor was carpeted in rich, deep, soft crimson, bordered with gold patterns

"Hey, Harry mate!" Ron's cheerful voice greeted them. He shook his head. "Never would've expected this." He muttered.

"Neither did I," his sister muttered. "Hey Harry, Ginny, kids." Hermione said cheerfully. Rose was eagerly examining everything, whilst Hugo looked overwhelmed.

"Do you have your keys?" She asked.

Harry rummaged in his mokeskin pouch. "Here." He held out a key, similar to his Gringotts key. Hermione nodded. "Remember, we'll need to keep our identifications at all times."

"Right," Harry muttered. "Well, how long will it take for us to get to New York?"

"Not long," Hermione reassured her. "Only four hours and fifteen minutes. That's half the time it takes to go from a muggle airplane."

"Yeah, but according to Dad, it's not nearly as fun," Ron stated. He looked at the door next to Harry and Ginny's. "First Class?" Hermione fitted the key. "Good trip." She stated, unlocking the door.

"You too, Aunt 'Mione," Albus said wearily as his father unlocked the door.

Inside was wide and spacious, decorated in the same rich, sweeping crimson carpets, with squashy velvet sofas and armchairs, a fireplace roaring beneath a handsome stone mantlepiece carved with the likeness of a hippogriff. Crystal chandeliers illuminated the whole room, combining with the fire to create a warm glow. There were coat hangers, and paintings on the walls, one of which showed scenes of their awaiting destination.

"They've loaded our stuff away, but we'll get self-adjusting pyjamas if we want to sleep laid out on our beds in the rooms." Harry sighed wearily. "If you're hungry, just go to the dining room and speak to the slot in the wall. Food and drinks will appear- whatever you want as long as it's non-alcoholic, not prank material or poisonous. Bathrooms are _en-suite,_ so don't worry." He suppressed a yawn. "I didn't get much rest last night." Ginny nodded sympathetically. "Too restless to sleep?"

"Among other things," Harry confessed. He made his way over to the sofa. "Just wondering what my extended family in New York's like- what their lives are like."

And admittedly, if he wanted to be honest with himself, how different his life could have been if his parents had lived. Would they have lived like his relatives in America?

Ginny sighed. "Right. Boys, behave yourselves okay- James, I don't want a single prank or anything that would make too much noise. Lily, please come with me."

She looked at Harry. "How does this thing we're travelling in, work?"

Harry closed his eyes. "Soon, we'll be bending time and space. Vanishing, like that Vanishing Cabinet we saw in school. It'll take time, given the distance, but it's perfectly safe. We know where we're going to appear."

Soon enough, four-and-a-half hours later, the liner materialised in the travel port. Ginny blinked as their luggage appeared out of nowhere on the trolleys. The doors slid open, revealing a landing platform similar to the one they had departed in, and a glass elevator. "Welcome to New York and the United States of America," a voice cheerfully announced in the spaces above.

* * *

"This is it," Harry cheerfully announced. "This is it," Ron agreed, as their trolleys rolled forwards. Hermione came rushing over.

"I've just been contacted," she said. "We're being greeted by Anthony Potter and his family in the receiving area below."

They departed in a glass elevator and when they arrived, a throng of people were waiting, some with wands in the air, spelling names of the people they were waiting to greet, spread out before them.

Harry saw some words :THE POTTER FAMILY in bright golden light. The one conjuring those words caused them to disappear when Harry saw him. He was a tall, thin man in his mid-thirties, with an untidy mop of black hair and hazel eyes behind glasses, which were rectangular, not round like Harry's. He had a thin face, the same hair, a slim nose and the same hands as Harry's, but his eyes were like James- Harry's father's eyes.

Anthony Potter beamed, grinning as he saw Harry approach. He shook Harry's hand. "Mr. Harry Potter, welcome to New York."

"Please, call me Harry," he replied, grinning back. "Only if I'm Tony," his American cousin grinned. He gestured to a young lady with walnut-coloured tresses and honey-blonde streaks. "This is my wife, Marion."

Marion Potter smiled, extending a hand to shake. "Our son, Lucas," a tall boy with tidier hair than his father, no glasses and a handsome face nodded politely to Harry. "Our younger son, Matt," a scrawny-looking boy with his father's hair peered up at Harry. "And our daughter, Hazel."

It was easy to see why Hazel had been named as such; her large doe-shaped eyes were a deep gold-green colour, fringed with long, sweeping lashes. She appeared to be about Lily's age.

Harry introduced his family. "This is Ginny, my wife," he said as Ginny went to say hello, "Our sons James and Albus, and our daughter, Lily." He turned towards Ron and Hermione. "This is Ron, and Hermione, my brother-and-sister-in-law."

Tony Potter beamed. "Great honor. I've heard a lot about both of you." He beamed down at the kids and Hermione introduced them.

They soon found out that Tony was a warm, good-humoured, pleasant, friendly guy, if a bit mischievous. They were constantly laughing at his jokes, and Tony jokingly implied that he'd been a pain in school.

"So welcome to New York if I haven't already said that," Tony said cheekily. "Honestly, it's great to have you hear. We've been trying to get a break from work, but things are really tense. Thankfully, we've managed to ease up a little."

"I heard you work at the Auror Office in MACUSA," Hermione began. Tony nodded. "That's right. I'm the top Auror but the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Magical Security is my boss- he's Keme Sizemore." He made a theatrical face which caused the children to giggle. "And he's very thorough and efficient, but dang, he does run a tight leash. His sister wasn't as strict, but she's just as thorough and efficient."

"His sister?" Despite himself, Harry couldn't help but be interested in how the Auror Office in America worked. After the war, he, Kingsley and several others were trying to reform the Ministry. The Auror Office was no exception.

"The legendary Adsila- Adsila Sizemore, the fourth Adsila Sizemore. She was head auror but got promoted somewhere else. I rarely see her, and I don't know where she went." He frowned. "She was good enough to suggest me as a replacement to her brother, so I'm grateful."

"Anyway, I look forwards to hearing about life in Britain," he grinned. "I hear it's different."

"It's always different in another country," his wife rolled her eyes. "Forgive my husband, he's a little too... Exuberant."

Tony put a hand over his heart in a melodramatic manner. "You wound me- I thought that's the reason why you fell in love with me in the first place." Everyone laughed. "Anyway, we'll be home soon," they were driving. "But first, I hope you don't mind the New York traffic. Honestly, we'd much rather apparate, but with kids around, well, they don't like it much."

Hermione nodded. "You mentioned that two of your children are in school?"

"What's the school in America?" Ginny asked, keeping an eye on Lily who had started playing a game with Hazel.

"Ilvermorny," Marion answered. "It's in Mount Greylock, Massachusetts."

"That's interesting." Hermione peered at Marion. "So it isn't unplottable."

"Good heavens, no," Tony spoke. "You see back in those days, people needed somewhere to go to in times of trouble, somewhere like Ilvermorny which is a fortress, where they can set out for. Well, America being the size of America, we didn't have many of the advantages as you'd expect. we're much too spread out and the No-Majes-"

"Sorry, what?" Harry blinked.

"You know," he waved a careless hand. "Non-magical people? No-Maj is short for no magic."

"Oh," Harry said. "We call them muggles in Britain."

Tony laughed. "Sounds cuddly. Anyway, as I was saying, America's wizarding history is pretty rough. You've heard about the Great European Witch Hunt right?"

"The what?" Albus asked.

"It's the time when wizards and witches in Europe were being persecuted by muggles- or No-Majes, right?" Harry asked, tentatively. "Sorry, it's been a while since my last History of Magic lesson." He admitted sheepishly.

Which he never paid much attention to in school, because his teacher, Professor Binns, had a tendency to drone on and on, without arousing the slightest interest in his students or paying attention in what they were doing. Some students had a tendency to go for naps, Ron amongst them.

"Yeah," Tony sounded amused. "Anyhoo, these really fanatical No-Majes- sorry, _muggles-_ decided that Britain had become too corrupt, too decadent and too full of witches."

"Well, they weren't wrong there," Ron joked. Everyone laughed. "Well, these guys- known as the Puritans- decided to up and leave for the Americas because _clearly_ they thought it was empty and they couldn't tell that there were already people there and some of them were magical- or that wizards already knew about America long before they did and some decided to escape the European Witch Hunt by going here!" They laughed.

"Of course it didn't take long for it to come into cahoots," he sobered suddenly. "The history of violence between American No-Majes and magical people is a long and violent one, but after the Salem Witch Trials where many innocent people were killed, the magical Native American tribes and the magical settlers banded together and formed MACUSA- and our ancestor Abraham Potter was one of the first aurors. They faced a huge challenge and only two of them survived to old age.

"So magical Native Americans and European settlers were targeted by these No-Majes and the Scourers-"

Ron blinked. "Sorry, the what?"

"Scourers," Marion Potter looked grave as she explained. "Prior to the formation of MACUSA, America was short of magical law enforcement. Dark wizards and witches could flee here, far from any authority to rein them in. They could do whatever they wanted, and America's a big place, so it caused a lot of problems when it came to finding and catching them. The scourers were mercenaries and bounty hunters, hired by anyone who could afford them. First they did a good job, but then they became corrupt."

"They liked gold a little too much." Tony muttered, all traces of humour gone. "They didn't just hunt down criminals, but anyone who wanted someone dead or framed for a crime, they went for them as long as they got a good price." Marion continued. "Because of the lack of authority at that time, they could go after whoever they wanted so long as there was a good reward, and whoever stood in their way could suffer the same treatment. They became brutal, and began to torture people and commit other horrible crimes. In time, they stopped working for their fellow wizards and began working for No-Maj witch hunters who gave them money to turn over their own kind, even if it meant certain death, even if the witch or wizard they caught were actually innocent. Just a random person they picked on." She pursed her lips. "It didn't matter to them. Sometimes they framed other No-Majes for being witches and wizards. Things like this led to the Salem Witch Trials where countless people were executed. There were at least two scourers during those trials, pointing the fingers and causing countless innocents to be killed." She looked disturbed.

Right now, they had gone to a park somewhere in New York. Tony kept driving the car to the silence. It was a fine day, the sky was clear and blue and birds could be heard singing outside.

Harry was silent. Hermione looked appalled and downright horrified. Ron's face was ashen. Ginny looked outraged and murderous. "Why would they do such a thing?"

"Gold. Greed." Lucas Potter spoke up. "After the Salem Witch Trials, MACUSA was formed. The first task of the Original Twelve was to get rid of the Scourers. They succeeded at wiping them out, but not before they passed down their ideas towards the No-Majes that witches and wizards still exist and are evil." He gave their British visitors a grim look. "Which is why in America we need to be extra careful around No-Majes. We follow strict rules."

"He's right," his mother sighed. "But we shouldn't scare them, Lucas, you know that." Lucas shrugged. "Just sayin'. Scourers were mostly captured and put on trial by MACUSA, but a number were never caught. They married into No-Maj families, got rid of any kids of theirs who showed signs of magic- I'd hate to find out how- and taught their descendants how to integrate into non-magical society and that magic does exist and witches and wizards who practice it are evil and deserve to be wiped out." He looked grim. "Their descendants still believe that. They've spread the word. That's why American No-Majes are harder to fool and hoodwink than non-magicals anywhere else in the world."

His dad sighed. "Right. Things can be pretty tense. Obviously, not all No-Majes are bad, but it's highly likely that if a No-Maj does discover that you're capable of magic that they would react in a very bad way. That's why we live- _here."_ He drove the car to what appeared to be a huge pine tree. The car vanished.

When everything came into focus, they saw that they were at a clearing.

There were a series of well-kept manicured lawns and gardens, pretty hanging baskets, window-boxes and pots holding some of the brightest. A series of fine, tasteful houses lined the road, but none of them matched like muggle- or No-Maj neighborhoods. They were in interesting shapes and sizes, colours and even patterns at times.

One house looked like a neat little cottage with a huge oak tree which sprouted from the middle of the house. Another looked like a miniature Gothic tower.

"We're up over there." Tony drove forwards.

The house was a lovely red-wood and stone building with a garden up front. Inside was incredibly spacious, with gleaming, polished wood floors, soft rugs, eggshell and cream-coloured walls or grey-green ones, and handsome golden oak accents in the stair railings, squashy velvet sofas and armchairs, family photographs, lots of books, photographs in frames and paintings. A rack of shoes stood near the door. A few pieces of artwork, like carved owls, or childhood pictures obviously drawn by Hazel and the boys in their younger years. Everything looked warm, cosy, tasteful and inviting.

Despite its obvious quality, and the obvious wealth of its inhabitants, there was nothing cold and grand about this place. It was tasteful, as mentioned, and comfortable, warm, welcoming and un-threatening, with an air like Hogwarts or the Burrow. It was home.

"It's beautiful," Ginny and Hermione breathed at the same time. They smiled at each other.

"Welcome to our home." Marion smiled. "Now why don't we show you to your rooms, then you can refresh yourselves and have some dinner? We'll talk afterwards."

* * *

"As preparations for the Quidditch World Cup are underway in Argentina, the countdown is soon to begin. Travellers from all over the globe are readying for the preparations to travel to the Patagonian Dessert." The announcer said on TV. It all seemed very curious, this new No-Maj device, but people had quickly taken to it.

A knock resounded on the door. The elder Cherokee man got up from his called out to his wife that he would get it- and was confronted by the sight of a smiling Adsila.

 _"Osiyo, Eduda,"_ she greeted.

"Adsila!" He beamed broadly. _"Hasiyu?"_

"I'm fine, _Eduda,"_ she told her grandfather. "I'm sorry to disturb your vacation time." She switched to Cherokee.

"Think nothing of it," he said, waving a careless hand. He might have been an elder of high standing within their influential and powerful tribe and of immense social status, influence and wealth within the whole wizarding America, but he actually never liked to stick to protocol.

"Come inside," he urged. Adsila stepped inside the lodge. "What brings you here, at this time of night?"

"I've just been to a meeting in New York," she explained.

His eyes sharpened. "Another assignment?"

"From the president." Adsila replied, watching him widen his eyes ever-so-slightly.

"What is it this time?" He asked.

She winced. "I'm afraid I can't answer that, you know, _Eduda._ It's strictly classified."

"I see," he said gravely. "Is it something to do with what's on the news?"

Adsila stared. Was it on the news already? As if those journalists weren't fast enough, now that they had TV... She should've been grateful.

"Honey? Who is it?" The voice of her grandmother echoed through as she stepped into view.

 _"Osiyo, Elisi,"_ Adsila smiled. "Adsila," her grandmother beamed and threw her arms around her. She smelled of freshly-squeezed lemon and baked treats, family recipes kept secret from the outside world, and even nosy relatives.

"You're here," she breathed. "Oh, I can't believe it. How's everyone?"

"Everyone's fine, _Elisi,"_ she stated."I've just been in a meeting with the president not four days ago."

They both stared. "What was it about?" Her grandmother asked.

"Don't ask," her grandfather said. "You know she can't tell."

"Sadly, no," Adsila agreed. "But it's important. I'm on standby, expecting another assignment soon enough."

Her grandmother looked grave. "I see," she said. "And does this mean you'll be going away soon?"

"Actually, I'm here to recruit Ayita." Adsila's grandparents exchanged surprised glances.

Adsila frowned. _"Eduda,_ _Elisi,_ I know how you feel. I know it's especially hard for you to let us go like this, and Ayita's had a hard time. But you know she needs this job- it's her dream anyway. Besides, I would never force her to do anything so I'll give her a choice, but you remember what happened last time, right?"

Her grandfather grimaced. "Yes," he admitted. "And we can't afford for it to happen a third time," Adsila insisted. "Not unless she wants to get demoted into another department or even fired and banned from working for MACUSA. The first time there was some debate in regards to her responsibility. The second time she was partly responsible, I know it was an accident, but she was partly responsible, nevertheless. And she has to take that responsibility."

They both gave each other knowing looks and sighed. "This may be her final chance." Adsila said softly. "She was a good agent,and she had great potential but mistakes could be deadly in our department and the last mistake almost was. She could have ended up in serious trouble, as it is, and the next time, I won't be able to testify on her behalf in her defence." She herself had arranged for lawyers for Ayita during the hearings. "Ayita wasn't the only one responsible, but she's being watched closely from now on. If she does nothing, she'll be branded a quitter and she might as well quit. If she works hard and is careful not to get into anymore trouble and earns respect, then she may have a stable position, perhaps someday, she'll be promoted. Who knows?" Adsila sighed. "I have to recruit her."

Silence.

Then a voice spoke. "You mean it?" They turned. It was Ayita.

Adsila's cousin had satiny skin the colour of caramel and honey, not as deep and rich as Adsila's, she had delicate features, a tiny delicately upturned and pointed nose like her, though less tapered, a pretty but small mouth,thick silky black hair in a long braid, high cheekbones, not as defined as hers and a slender, willowy figure. She was beautiful, and she would grow to be even more beautiful, though she was not as dazzling as her cousin.

Or currently as accomplished. "Yes, I mean it," Adsila answered, looking into Ayita's caramel-coloured eyes. She gazed at her cousin, an unspoken message passed between them. Ayita nodded. "When will we start?"

"For now, you are to remain in New York on standby, but prepare yourself and be ready for anything." She warned. Ayita could not fail, not a third time.

"I'll see you in New York," Adsila said, before turning to leave. "Be careful Adsila," her grandmother warned. _"Stiyu,_ Adsila," her grandfather said.

 _"Dodadagohv i,"_ she replied as she went out the door.

* * *

Harry finished washing his hands. He shook them and wiped them with a towel and proceeded to make his ways downstairs.

Ginny and Hermione were talking animatedly with Marion whilst Ron and James were laughing uproariously at something Tony had said. The two Potter girls, Hazel and Lily, and Hugo were quietly playing on the carpet, whereas Luke was being asked some questions by a very eager Rose. The adults and the older children were in the kitchen or helping to set the table. Harry could not help but feel himself warm at the sight.

He went and carried a load of mashed potatoes sprinkled with grated cheese and chives to the table, whilst Ginny levitated a platter full of grilled ribs covered in barbecue sauce despite Marion's protests. Hermione had made lemonade using cane sugar and fresh lemons from the gardens and carried them in pitchers to the table, whereas Luke tossed the salad.

Finally they washed their hands and sat down to eat. Laughter, chatter and the clink of cutlery upon plates filled the air.

Lucas told them about Ilvermorny and what he planned to do. "I'm going to MACUSA, but I'm not sure which department just yet," he confessed.

Tony said that his parents lived up north, but if they liked, they could go and visit them. Their cottage was a lovely place, he said. Deep in the woods, but it looked like a fairytale dream, Marion put in. With a lovely garden with roses and honeysuckle, and their cottage inside was truly lovely. She loved visiting her in-laws.

They talked about the oncoming Quidditch World Cup and life in America and Britain. Hermione wanted to go to New York and see MACUSA, Tony was happy to take them along. In fact, he was sure some MACUSA personnel wanted to see them.

That night, so far away from home, Harry still slept soundly, as peaceful, warm, comfortable, and happy as he had ever been. It reminded him of his first night at Hogwarts.

If only he knew ho briefly he would get to enjoy this.

* * *

 **For those who have read the original story, you may remember Adsila- but this is a different Adsila to last time, she isn't going to be the OC she was last time. I felt there was something wrong with her characterisation and her involvement in the plot, and I've just introduced her cousin Ayita.**

 **Adsila has a Cherokee father and a Narragansett mother, so when she's with her family she won't speak English, but Cherokee or Narragansett. I don't want to offend any Cherokee, Narragansett, Quileute, Makah or any other Native American reading this, so please let me know if I misspell something or make any mistake. Adsila uses Cherokee right above when speaking to her grandparents and cousin, because some Native American tribes do have magic, some are entirely magical, others are divided between the magical and the non-magical. Plus, because of the lack of ethnic prejudice in magical society, they would have flourished, not lost their land and become subjugated to loss of culture, rights, food and water, and so forth.**

 **As every witch and wizard in the US followed Rappaport's Law, this meant that unlike the No-Majes, while they may speak English fluently, they clung to their native languages.**

 **Cherokee words** **:**

Osiyo- (Pronounced _oh-see-yoh_ ) Greetings to a tribal elder, a clan mother, or another person with high rank in the tribe.

Eduda- (Pronounced _aa-dou-dah_ ) Grandfather- paternal.

Hasiyu?- (Pronounced _Hah-see-you_ ) 'You are good?' Can be used as a statement without the question mark.

Elisi- (Pronounced _aa-lee-si_ \- like _sit_ without the t) Grandmother.

Stiyu- (Pronounced _Stee-you_ ) 'Be Strong.' A goodbye.

Dodadagohv i- (Pronounced _doh-dah-dah-goh-hun-i_ ). 'Until we meet again.' (Plural form)


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer : You don't need it and I don't claim it. You know nothing's on me.**

 **To Anahissa: Thank you. I hope I don't take too much of the good stuff away.**

* * *

 **Chapter Three:**

 **An Entirely Different World**

 _Forks, Washington…_

"Claire," Emily called, worriedly.

Claire looked over to her aunt Emily.

She was a beautiful little girl now, Emily thought. And she looked so much like…

She swallowed to suppress the pain.

 _Don't think about it,_ she advised herself. _Don't start- not now._

She was gone. Claire had lost a mother and a sister, just as Emily had lost a sister and a niece. And now she had taken responsibility for Claire's upbringing and wellbeing. Emily had lost two sisters: Leah and Emmy. She wasn't going to lose her niece.

She'd be damned. She only had Sam and Claire left and the Pack.

But Claire was currently showing a mysterious ability which befuddled not only the Pack but the tribal elders.

She was able to make things move with just her mind. Things broke, mended, floated or just shifted according to her will or emotions it seemed. Whenever she was distressed, upset, hurt, angry or afraid.

And more. Emily had been called to school when she heard that Claire had been climbing the school buildings. She'd sworn up and down that she only ever tried to get away from some bullies, and by the shocked, stunned look on her own face, Emily had no doubt it was true.

Then came the episode where she had seen some of the Pack cliff-diving. Emily and Sam trusted all of them not to cliff-dive in front of Claire- least she got ideas. But Claire had seen them and panicked. She ran out, just as one of them- Collin, she believed- had jumped. The other boys turned panicked at her arrival, but she held out her hands and Collin _floated_ in midair, before landing slowly and gently on the ground. He'd tried not to freak out, so did the others.

There were flowers blooming and wilting, water boiling or cooling according to her niece's moods. She had seen one particularly rowdy and disruptive tourist's hair turn a horrible shade of neon green all of a sudden.

In school, or around town, Emily discussed this with Sam, who discussed it with Quil and the elders. They decided it was for the best: Claire would be taken out of school, educated at home, and kept out of harm's way and anyone else's view, where no one would see her and those unused to the supernatural would freak, take her away and worse. Quil had panicked at that. They all did.

So the Pack and the tribal elders decided that Claire would be completely hidden from the outside world- no playdates with anyone who didn't know, no school, no shopping trips around town- nothing.

But it pained them to realise that she was so isolated- alone. She only had the pack and her extended family.

"Hey," Claire walked up to her. She was ten, eleven this year.

Emily sighed. She looked down at her niece. "Claire, sweetie, what did I tell you?"

Claire heaved a heavy-hearted sigh and looked down. "I'm not supposed to wander off." She mumbled. Her eyes shot up. "I know- I'm sorry, I couldn't help it, but-" her aunt cut her off by taking both hands in hers.

"Claire," Emily said gently, bending down. "It's fine. I know it's hard for you to not go anywhere without the Pack or myself, but it's for the best. You don't know who else could see or hear you. Most people aren't used to strange things happening, like people turning into wolves and kids making things float. This is serious."

"Because of the government and the Men in Black?" Claire asked, in a dead-pan voice. Emily suppressed a snort.

"Yes, because of people like them," she clarified.

"And because of the new president right? Because he likes white men best and white women next and nobody else." Claire asked.

Emily stared. "Where did you hear that?"

"I heard Quil's granddad talking about it with Quil and Billy," Her niece clarified. "They didn't seem too happy about him."

Emily sighed and suppressed a groan. "Claire, if there's one thing you need to know, stay away from politics and politicians. It's always messy and nothing ever gets solved the way they say it will."

"Duly noted," Claire gave her an impish grin. But then she grew serious. "What am I supposed to do when no one's here, though?"

Emily's heart squeezed at that. "Claire, I _know._ But we have to be careful. Until we find out how you can do all this and how you can control it, then you have to stay hidden."

They'd made all sorts of excuses from other relatives having joint custody and other things. It made it easier to believe since Claire's father was unknown. Emmy had gone off and become pregnant with her then-boyfriend, whom she didn't even introduce to the rest of her family, first with Jacqueline, then Claire. It had been the aftermath of a terrible argument which caused Emmy to storm out of the house. They hadn't seen her in years until she came back to the Makah reservation with her young daughters.

It had been quite the shock, but Emmy admitted that their father was no longer in their lives. Jackie and Claire had taken their mother's surname. And Emmy bravely raised them alone with the family's help, until she and the girls had gone on a little trip and their car had gone off a cliff. Claire had been the only survivor.

By this time, Emmy and Emily's parents had died so it was only Emily who had been left to raise Claire, along with Quil, Sam, the Packs and the elders.

"I can control it better," Claire said suddenly. She held out her palm. In the middle was a daisy. The petals suddenly began furling and unfurling, before closing tight, and repeating the process all over again.

Emily smiled. "That really is amazing, darling."

Claire beamed, seemingly cheered by the praise. But Emily knew this wasn't going to last. At that moment, Sam chose to walk by.

"Hey," he gave her a loving smile. "And hey to you, Claire-bear," he ruffled her hair. "What've you got there?"

Claire held out her flower. Sam watched her repeat the process before giving Claire a brilliant smile.

"That's amazing Claire," he said gently. "Why don't you show Quil? He's dying to see you."

Claire nodded eagerly and dashed off. Emily watched her anxiously.

"Her powers are getting stronger," she said.

Sam looked grim now. "Yes," he admitted. "Have you found anything yet?"

They, the pack and the elders were searching their legends- and the Makah ones- trying desperately to find any explanation whatsoever for Claire's abilities. But unlike the legends- actual histories- which explained the Quileute packs' ability to transform into wolves, there had been no explanation for Claire.

"I'm thinking we should look into the legends of other tribes," Emily suggested. "Other nations, even. I know it's not likely there'll be any explanations for her abilities that come from, say, the Pacific Islands, but South America may be our best bet."

Sam shrugged. "We can try," he agreed.

"But I don't want her to live like this," Emily shook her head, saddened. "I don't want her to be secluded, and-and isolated, cut off from the outside world, unable to go anywhere. It isn't right."

Sam agreed. He held her close. "No," he said sadly. "It's not."

* * *

 _I think this may blow up in my face,_ Adsila thought, frowning. She walked through the woods.

Sighing she rubbed her hand across her forehead. Glancing at her grandparents' house, she shook her head.

 _They certainly took it well,_ she thought. Normally she would relax and unwind when she came home to North Carolina, but this time, there was no time.

She frowned as she looked back up at the house on the hill. It was a beautiful house, and she and Ayita and Keme had lived there until their parents moved farther north. All over were the hills, the woods, the nearby lake. They swum in the lake and the sea, fished with sharpened spears and magic traps, hunted what they needed in the meadow, played tag and hide-and-seek, rolled around, chased wild pigs, gathered berries and helped with the farming. They also listened to ancient legends and stories, passed down throughout the generations around a campfire. Simple, happy days, full of innocence.

Things have changed, she thought, still staring at the house. It was two stories, had a shale roof, a wide, wraparound porch and a railed balcony. The transom windows and pillars were framed or twined with carvings of rattlesnakes, vines and stags. She remembered touching the carvings and beholding them with reverence, listening to her grandparents' stories.

Nation, tribe, clan and family- all of these were important- she had been raised to believe that. To serve them- and to live up to the burden of her family legacy- a legacy that threatened to crush every child born into their clan and family. A weight which, many times became almost unbearable to Adsila and now threatened not only to crush, but to bury her cousin beneath the rubble.

Doubts plaguing her mind, she turned around and decided to take a walk.

After which, she sat at a nearby clearing, watching a group of children play.

They were sitting around a bonfire which rose three feet into the air. An alarming sight for it to be near children, sure, but they were supervised and wards were put up, protective spells to ensure their safety. The fire was grew and faded into ever-changing colors. The smoke and flames took different shapes, forms and colors like wild animals and creatures, human warriors and mystics from the distant past as the adult wizard conjured those images and sounds to inspire awe, entertain, amuse and interest the children.

The legends and stories of their past. Adsila sighed. She remembered those days well.

Eventually the wizard in charge- the 'Medicine Man' as non-Natives called them- Onacona, started to teach them how to do it too. They enjoyed playing it. Adsila heard a series of strange sounds, pops, sizzles and amusing cracks. The children were giggling around the fire.

Onacona smiled indulgently as they played. The kids laughed hysterically with amusement and fun, and Adsila could not contain her smile. They were so innocent.

She remembered playing the game as a child. Listening to all the old, ancient, mystical stories, watching with incredible rapture and attention as the wizard animated them, caused sounds like thunder and lightning to appear, for the purpose of entertaining and educating youngsters the legends and lessons from long ago. She had been taught to do the same, like Keme and Ayita. She remembered those days.

 _So carefree..._

Adsila watched them play, realizing just how long ago it was. Before climbing career ladders became a high priority. Before the astounding, crushing pressure of the family legacy; tribal honor; national pride and security; shining for the purpose of all those who knew her; being awarded. Missions, secrets, assignments, dangers, threats, enemies. And losses.

There had been great chiefs, warriors, healers and so forth in her family and clan before the Europeans even came, No-Majes and mages alike. She counted among her ancestors, the Founders of Magical America. Adsila Sizemore the First was president of MACUSA. The second Adsila was a famous billionairess and a society beauty. The third, her grandaunt Adsila, was America's best wandmaker, and had been married to another famous one in the twentieth century. There were many others, just as great, with different names.

She had been affected. She and her older brother Keme. and Ayita, young as she was. After all, her parents had named her Adsila. The burden of their family legacy and the expectations piled upon them, not merely by tribe, elders, clan and extended family, but the entire nation. America was holding its breath waiting to see how the next generation of the Sizemore dynasty will turn up and what they would bring to America.

She felt the eyes on her in Ilvermorny. Felt them watch her as she passed. The teachers did everything they could to make life normal for them in school. But she couldn't tune out the blinks, double-takes and stares when they heard the name Sizemore. _And_ Adsila.

Sighing, Adsila shook her head. They needed to leave.

It was bad enough, she thought, that the Salem Purists were on the rise. Previously the majority of No-Majes in the modern age could be counted upon as believing magic as nothing more than senseless superstition, hokum and such. But now, they were beginning to be more aware.

And it could lead to the breach in the International Statute of Secrecy. And the Salem Witch Trials all over again.

Adsila scowled as she contemplated that.

The famous Harry Potter was coming to America. And already he was tap-dancing on her last good nerve.

Not that she didn't respect the guy. She had the most tremendous respect and gratitude towards him for getting rid of Voldemort.

But he and his allies as well as his opponents, had created a great deal of mess that she had to clean up and they didn't even know.

But she wondered just how much time they had.

Finally the children were ushered back home into their houses. Onacona smiled benevolently as their moms and dads, baby-sitters and house-elves ushered them away. He glanced up at Adsila.

She stood from her chair as he approached.

Onacona was a slender man, in pale, cream-coloured robes, astonishingly simple for one of his status, but he was never one to brag or show off. His long grey hair hung loose down his back.

Adsila smiled. _"Osiyo,"_ she greeted, bowing her head. He was held in very high esteem.

 _"Tsilugi,_ Adsila," Onacona's smile widened as he welcomed her. _"Otahitsu?"_ How are you?

 _"Hawa,"_ she said nonchalantly. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm under a lot of strain," she confessed.

"Ah. Seen your grandparents?" He inquired. "I have," she replied. "And Ayita?"

Adsila opened her mouth, frowning. She decided not to say anything, but looked at him suspiciously, eyes narrowed.

Onacona laughed softly. "She's been waiting for months, years, I'd say."

Adsila sighed. "Onacona, you know it's a miracle that she's in a stable position right now?"

His eyebrow only rose higher.

"As stable as it could be," Adsila amended. "I'm just grateful she wasn't demoted, decommissioned, prosecuted, charged, jailed or worse." She shuddered inwardly to think about it. "I can't defend her, Onacona. Not officially. Not in my position." She winced. "My hands are tied."

Onacona looked at her sympathetically. "It's not easy being a sister and a person of immense importance at the same time," he empathized.

Although she and Ayita were not biological sisters, they might as well be. Before Adsila became increasingly occupied, the trials of Ayita's position and the fact that Adsila's hands were tied.

Ayita wasn't the most prominent member of the Sizemore family, but there was a time when she had been a rising star and it looked as if she would soar to shine even brighter.

Unfortunately, now no one knew where she stood. She had halted in her ascent. Now everyone wasn't sure whether Ayita would rise again to shine, sink into obscurity within the horizon or fade wherever she stood.

Adsila frowned. Ayita had been an auror. She had been quite good, though combat wasn't her specialty. But she had more than enough skill to be promoted into the newly-found DOMASIA which had been set up as a means of defending America covertly from the forces and schemes of Voldemort, his followers and their allies.

And then it had all gone to pot from there, as the No-Majes would say.

Ayita couldn't afford another disaster. Otherwise, that was it.

And as head of DOMASIA and its founder, Adsila's hands were tied and she was compelled to obey the law. And the trouble and scrutiny could also spread to her as well, as Ayita's superior and her cousin.

Onacona noticed her worry. "Enough frowns," he advised. "Tell me, have you spent time with your cousin ever since you got back?"

Adsila bit her lip and looked at the moss on the ground. He gave her a knowing look.

"To make things all about work does not bode well for any friendship, much less kinship," he warned her. "I remember when you were children. You used to play together by the beach, listen to stories, watch the dancing wide-eyed, and I would tell and show our legends and stories the way I showed these children and teach you to do the same."

Adsila shifted uncomfortably. She was always so good at keeping her poise, yet Onacona, of all people, made her lose her focus and forget her training.

"I know," she said quietly. "And... I _do_ love her, Onacona, that hasn't changed, but..."

"But?" He prodded gently. "I'm not just busy," she looked at him. "I'm also worried."

"Ah. But surely you have faith in your cousin?" Adsila's head shot up towards him.

"Of course I do! It's just..." She swallowed. "I'm wondering if I had _too much_ faith in the beginning," she said shame-faced. "That I allowed her into the agency because I believed in her... And I believed in her _because_ she was my cousin. My spirit-sister. If that was the case, I should not have done that. I was trusted, by everyone, not to be biased. And although Ayita certainly fit into the criteria..." She swallowed again. A flush of shame had entered her face.

"I am caught. I want to be a good sister and cousin, a good daughter and granddaughter. A good friend. But I also need to be a good boss, a good comrade. Someone reliable, because a lot of people rely on me. I can't afford any mistakes or it could cost people their lives. How am I supposed to be both?" She bit out.

Onacona sighed. "As I said, it's not easy." He agreed. "But no matter what happens, my advice is: don't let Ayita forget that you love and care for her. And don't stop believing in her, no matter what. Don't be blind in your beliefs of anyone, keep your eyes open, but you must trust her in order to believe in her. And you must believe in her in order for her to make you proud." He looked Adsila in the eye as he said that. "So don't let her forget."

Adsila nodded. "And believe in yourself." He moved closer and touched her shoulders, looking her in the eye. _"Trust_ yourself. The spirits and courage of your ancestors have stretched all the way back long before MACUSA. They are still with you and will always be with you. But you need to believe and trust in yourself. That is the most important thing. Stop questioning everything you do. That will only sow doubt, discord and worse. It will lead to failure and tragedy, you of all people know that." Adsila sighed.

She looked at him. "I'll do my best." "That's all I'm asking," Onacona said sagely. "I should probably head back," she admitted. "Give your brother and your parents my best," he requested. She nodded. _"Heyatahesdi."_ He said. _Be careful._

 _"Wado udohiyu ustati,"_ she responded. _Thank you very much._

* * *

Feeling better, Adsila left. But she still could not get rid of the feeling that- for better or worse- they were in for something big.

Ayita found Adsila waiting for her in the gardens.

She opened her mouth, but her cousin held out her hand.

"We have a situation, and it has the potential to become severe," she stated. Ayita blinked, realising that Adsila had just spoken in Narragansett, not Cherokee, her mother's native language in order to keep this a secret from straying ears.

Ayita had been raised partially by her uncle and aunt since her parents died and thus had become fluent.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

Adsila fixed her with her honey-amber gaze. They always seemed to change from pure, molten gold; rich, freshly-harvested or smoked honey; polished globes of glowing amber; burnished bronze, copper… Every part of Adsila seemed to be made of amber. She was, without fail, the most beautiful, loveliest woman Ayita had ever seen, and this wasn't spoken with the bias of a cousin who hung on every footstep as a girl.

She was the most successful member of her generation alongside her brother. Ayita felt herself squirm on the inside. Her grandparents loved her and were always proud of her, but she knew she let them down…

She let the family, the clan and the tribe down.

But before she could continue that painfully familiar line of thought, Adsila spoke: "You are aware of the situation at hand?"

"If you're talking about the No-Maj president, and the Salem Purists, yes, I am aware of that," she said calmly.

"Well, do you know anything else?"

"Such as?" Ayita asked. Adsila nodded. "For now." Her gaze looked deadly grim.

The real truth may be that we are in more danger than that." She stated calmly.

Ayita stood very still. "Why?"

"Because there have been reports of several witches and wizards who have gone up north to Washington and mysteriously disappeared." Adsila said calmly.

Ayita froze. "Why was no one else told of this?" She might have been lying low, and currently in disgrace, desperate to prove herself- and on standby- but she should have known along with the others! And why didn't anyone else know?

"We've heard reports- alarming reports," Adsila continued. This sharpened Ayita's suspicion and interest. "Sasquatches?" She asked warily.

"No, not the sasquatch population," her cousin quickly refuted. "Reports of wolves- giant wolves unlike anything anyone has seen before. The No-Majes call them 'cryptids'. It's the term they use for-"

"Jackalopes, the White River Monster, Himalayan yeti and sasquatches themselves," Ayita murmured. "Sorry, please go on."

"Yes," Ayita didn't know if her cousin was amused, offended or had brushed this aside. "In other words, some No-Majes fervently believe in its existence, just as there are some No-Majes who believe we do exist. But in the cases of yeti, sasquatches, jackalopes and the Loch Ness monster, they actually do exist- we know this for a fact because we have magic." Adsila paused. "But although there are some species of giant wolves, none have ever been known to us to have ever been discovered in the state of Washington. Or vampire-like creatures that don't burn in sunlight." Ayita looked up, shocked.

"What?" She demanded.

"As of this moment, they are undiscovered by the No-Majes- and us." Adsila continued. "But word is quickly spreading- amongst the No-Majes- and amidst the population of a small town named Forks, and somewhat beyond including in Seattle, word has spread, about the "Olympic Wolves' as they are known, due to the fact that they were mostly found on the Olympic Peninsula. And worse: around 2005-2006, No-Majes started disappearing in and around Forks, and Washington in general. And then there are the rumours that there are other creatures- beautiful, pale beings with superhuman strength and speed, preying on humans and animals alike- like vampires- only they were seen during the day."

Ayita inhaled sharply. "Add that to the tensions rising within the No-Maj community, due to their president and his controversial attitudes with his own kind, the rising popularity of the Salem Purists, add that to the mix and we could be completely exposed- and worse. If there's one country in the world who's most at risk of suffering exposure and breaking the International Statute of Secrecy, it's us." Adsila paused.

"So you know what's at stake," she continued. "Should you not accept, know that I completely understand and will support you in this-" and guiltily, Adsila admitted to herself she would be a bit more than relieved- for Ayita's sake and everyone else's. "Should you accept, know that the risk of failure or even the slightest mistake could cost not only America, but the entire magical world, dearly. We may experience something akin to the Salem Witch Trials and the Great European Witch Hunt, except on a worldwide scale and who knows? With the new technology these No-Majes are proving capable of… We may never know what will happen to us."

"Experimental lab rats and dissected frogs; nuclear warhead victims and survivors; refugees and fugitives hiding from No-Maj law… Before war breaks out." Ayita hesitated. "So that's what's at risk?"

"In terms of failure or even the slightest mistake made by impulse," Adsila warned.

Ayita bristled. Since when was she ever rash? But admittedly, she did overlook some things and make mistakes.

And that was the reason for her current predicament. This work was her life. She needed it. But if she had been more thorough, more careful…

She couldn't afford to make a third mistake. Especially now.

Adsila stepped closer to her. "You said you wanted to prove yourself- one chance. That was all you needed."

"I didn't expect it to have such _spectacularly_ high risks should I fail!" Ayita shot back. "It's not just my career, Adsila, or the family, clan and tribe's reputation, it's… The whole world!" She stared at her cousin incredulously.

Adsila looked grave. "I know. But these are my orders." She sighed. "I tried to suggest something else- something which carries less risk should you fail, but…" She winced. "They were determined."

"They're trying to get rid of me, aren't they?" Ayita asked, numbly. "There's no other reason for them to give me such a high-risk assignment."

"You underestimate yourself," Adsila said sternly. "And nothing is going to damage the tribe's reputation."

"Just the clan and the family's," Ayita fired. "And mine! My career as well as my reputation, my future career. If I mess up-"

"Then make sure you don't." Adsila hissed, stepping closer to her. She grabbed her cousin by both slender shoulders. "Go through every step, _meticulously._ Do _not_ leave a single stone unturned. Be sharp-eyed as a thunderbird, and as every bit a hunter as a wampus. Don't miss out a single clue, and don't allow yourself to be tricked into a corner."

Ayita struggled not to wince at the reminder. "Literally or figuratively." Adsila warned. "Don't miss anything. Don't get fooled by false hopes, leads and _assurances._ _Everyone_ is a suspect, and they are ALL trying to trick you." She frowned at how that sounded. Hopefully she wouldn't get to paranoid.

"I am trusting and counting on you with this, Ayita," she warned. "No more mistakes."

* * *

"Claire!"

Claire Young looked up. Right now she wanted to be alone, but she couldn't deny her friend company. Quil had gone off to do 'wolf-business' or 'Pack-stuff' and she was now alone and hopelessly bored.

To most, this would sound disturbing. Gross in fact. But Claire trusted Quil, and he never bored her. As well as being fun, he was incredibly kind, gentle and patient. So there really was no danger of her falling in love with somebody else, anymore than there was with Quil- right?

Especially not now. Renesmee- or Nessie as she was known- sat down next to Claire.

"Hi," she greeted. "Where's Jacob?"

Nessie shrugged. "No idea. I don't know where they've gone." With Quil, no doubt.

Renesmee breathed out. "Okay." She looked at the space next to Claire. "Mind if I-"

"Sure," Claire said, budging over.

This wasn't the only company she received that wasn't a member of the Pack, Aunt Emily, Sue, Billy Black or Quil's granddad.

Renesmee Carlie Cullen was, like her, an honorary member of the Quileute tribe, being imprinted upon by Jacob Black. Claire had been imprinted on by Quil Ateara, Jake's friend. Once they had grown up, developed a friendship and fallen in love with them, they would be married.

Claire didn't dare admit it, but she really didn't mind. She really, _really_ loved them, all of them, especially Quil and Uncle Sam who was now, like her dad. But she was growing restless, tired, frustrated and bored, feeling like she was being cooped up there in La Push, which was exactly what she was. She was hardly left alone for a single moment, and it was driving her crazy.

"So…" Nessie began. "What're you up to?"

In answer, Claire held out a daisy. The petals began to close, then suddenly, stopped and unfurled, opening again to the sun.

"That's amazing," Nessie breathed.

Claire sighed. "Yeah. Just don't know why I'm the only one who can do it. Plus, I'm bored. No one's letting me out," she complained.

Nessie grimaced. She knew exactly what that was like. She had her parents and Jacob monitoring _her_ twenty-four-seven. Someone was always with her, if not her parents or Jake, then her grandparents, her aunts and/or uncles.

And because of her unearthly good looks and abnormally, unexplainably fast growth, Nessie had never gone to school in the first place. She was three years younger than Claire, turning eight this year, but she looked seventeen. It disturbed Claire, and she knew that if _she_ was forced to physically grow up in such a short amount of time, she would be more than unsettled. Nessie looked like a teenager, she was remarkably intelligent and alert. But emotionally, she too felt isolated, alone and insecure. At times she truly seemed younger than Claire.

 _We're two of a kind,_ Claire thought sullenly.

Nessie was aware of her thoughts. They were both kept isolated and secluded because of their abilities, completely sheltered and guarded by their families, and struggled to fit in and _not_ cause any more problems than they already have.

"You know," she decided to distract Claire. "If there's nothing that's been found on the Makah Reserve and here… My dad has a theory- I swear he didn't tell anyone about you! He just read it off our minds."

Claire perked. She had never actually met Nessie's father, but she knew he was a vampire who read people's minds.

"Well, when my dad first met my mom, she was the only person whose mind he couldn't read," Nessie explained. "When she became a vampire, Eleazar- a friend of ours- found out that her power was blocking telepathic powers like my dad's."

If that's the case, Claire didn't know how in the world the two of them got together. Maybe it was a case of 'opposites attract.'

"So based on this, my mom had those powers as a human, she just didn't know how to use them," Nessie continued. "Not as a human."

Claire perked up. "So does this mean…"

"He said it's not unusual for humans to have powers _before_ they're turned into vampires," her friend continued. "Benjamin- he's another vampire and a great guy- could manipulate earth, water, air and fire- even as a boy, he said. Before he was even turned. So you see, Claire, you're not the only one." Then she frowned. "But you powers… Well, they're a wide range. You see, Mom could block any mental powers. That's it. And the difference between Dad's powers and Aro's- that's another vampire- is that Dad could hear many people's thoughts at the exact same time- but he can only hear and see the thoughts they're having now. Aro on the other hand, can hear and see every thought you've ever had; every memory- but only if he touches you, and he can only do it with one person."

Claire stopped dead. All hopes she had came crashing down.

Nessie shifted uneasily. "It's just that most powers are placed in a certain field. Like Dad's telepathy, Demetri- Aro's guard- he's a tracker, and another guy named Alistair. That's because they can find anything or anyone they want, although they come in different ways. Granddad says that no two powers are the same, but they can be the same type."

And Claire could boil water; open, close and wilt flowers; turn people's _hair_ blue; fly and make people fly…

"Right." Claire's shoulders slumped. "But it's a start," Nessie hastily said.

A start which led to a dead end. Claire's spirits vanished.

* * *

Harry woke up bright and early in the morning. After washing up and dressing, he'd gone downstairs to see Marion levitating the huge tureen full of oatmeal and a rasher of bacon towards the table. Not to mention plates of toast and eggs. He sat down to breakfast.

"Hey!" Tony walked in, grinning.

He held a newspaper in his hand the title read The New York Ghost. "You guys wanna to check out the Big Apple? We could take you guys around the city."

"That sounds lovely, thank you," Hermione said while Ron and the kids asked, "What's the Big Apple?"

"It's what the No-Majes call New York," Tony said with a smirk.

"Breakfast first," Marion admonished, teasingly. " _Before_ you guys start planning on how to start your day. So, Harry, honey, how do you guys want your eggs?"

Hermione sighed and put down her coffee cup. "You know we could help-"

"Oh, no, no, no," Marion hastily said. "It's no problem at all."

"Marion was a chef once," Tony explained as he sat down. "Sunny-side up please, honey."

A jug of milk floated towards them, refilling the children's glasses. "I worked down in North Carolina for some time," she confessed. "Could've been better, I suppose, but I got transferred to New York by my boss."

"Where did you work?" Harry asked. He took a bite of scrambled eggs on toast.

"The _Nunnehi Princess,"_ Marion explained. "Restaurants and hotels, all over the US. "Owned by the Sizemore family."

"Wait- like Keme and Adsila?" It was Matt that spoke. He looked up from his breakfast plate.

"I thought you took History of Magic in school," Marion shook her head admonishingly. "You would have known the Sizemore family names usually tend to come up often. Presidents, society stars, billionaires, wandmakers, adventurers, herbologists, aurors, potioneers and more all come from the same family. Your father's boss, Keme Sizemore, the Director of Magical Security and the president's right-hand man, and his younger sister Adsila are only two. Actually, they're the offspring of two of the most powerful, influential and wealthiest families in North America. Their mother- who comes from the Narragansett tribe- is the daughter of the current Sachem."

"Sachem?" Harry and Ron asked, Ron looking from his huge plateful of food, food still in his mouth, causing Hermione to glare at him for talking whilst eating.

"Sachem or Sachim, is the Narragansett word for high chief," Marion placed eggs on Hazel's plate. "Also used by non Native Americans to describe any chief in particular, not just the Narragansett ones. Keme and Adsila are from Cherokee tribe on their father's side and Narragansett from their mother. Coming from two extremely powerful, wealthy and influential clans and some of the oldest and most renowned families, those two sure do have quite the burden of legacy and expectations."

Harry winced. "I know how that feels like."

Hermione looked at them with interest. "So they're Native American?"

The American Potters stared at her like she'd grown a dragon's head and a bear's one made of tin.

"Um… Yeah," Luke stared at her. "Didn't you know?"

Hermione blinked; seemingly realising she had made herself sound embarrassingly ignorant. But was it her fault? It's not like she knew anything about the Wizarding World in America!

"Well," she fumbled. "It's just that in the muggle- non-magical world- Native Americans aren't this influential or-"

But she realised again that she had made a mistake. Luke stared at her. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?" He demanded.

"Luke," his mother reprimanded as Hermione opened her mouth and closed it.

"Hey, come on now," Ron tried to cut in.

Luke was having none of it. "Two of my friends are Native American- Choctaw and Chickasaw and Sioux." He said heatedly. "And they're not bums! Their families are extremely incredibly respectable and well-off. What does it matter if they're Native American, African, Asian or Caucasian? And even if it does, why would you even _expect-"_

"Luke," his mother said sternly, as Hermione flushed deeper than ever and stammered. "They're new to America. They don't know."

"Maybe," her son shot back. "But I thought only No-Majes discriminate against skin color - and that they were against all kinds of discrimination."

"What?" Matt choked on a piece of toast. "Why would No-Majes even-"

"Lucas," his mother's voice grew firmer. "I understand how you feel, but she didn't mean to make it sound like that. She doesn't know." She turned to Hermione. "You were No-Maj- muggle-born and raised, weren't you?" She asked gently.

Hermione- if possible- flushed deeper. "I'm sorry," she blurted. All her life in the magical world, and she'd spent hours reading, trying to assimilate into wizarding culture, and truly see herself as one of them, but now based on her muggle upbringing and memories of the muggle world, she had- _unintentionally-_ made a terrible blunder. An inexcusable one, by anyone's standards, but an honest mistake. "I didn't _mean_ to make it sound like that," she protested. "I didn't know. It's just that in the muggle- No-Maj world-"

Marion nodded sagely. "I know what the No-Maj world is like," she said gravely. The air turned grim. "Wizards and witches- if they discriminate- are prejudiced against anything non-magical. But No-Majes look at women; people of different ethnicities and cultural groups; gender orientation and much more. The history of this country- riddled with the atrocities and violence of the No-Majes- against magical beings and even each other- are a testimony to that. Look at the Salem Witch Trials and the Great European Witch Hunt. Look at the American Civil War, the African Slave Trade, and the Trail of Tears."

"The what?" Everyone simultaneously said. "The African Slave Trade," Marion patiently explained. "Europeans and Caucasian Americans hated Africans and people who had dark skin colors. They used to send ships and crews to Africa, capture tribesmen, women and children with nets and traps- like wild animals- and they did treat them like animals- they took them on cargo ships and sold them as slaves to property owners- as slaves; to be whipped, starved and killed in whatever way they could. Even children. They had no rights- they were property, no better than beasts of burden." She looked pained. "They were ripped apart from their families and homes, sold to cruel masters- or kind ones, it depended on luck- to be their property."

She paused. "The Trail of Tears," she continued. "It started in 1803 but it didn't end there. Caucasian Americans and their European ancestors despised Native Americans almost as much as Africans. The Trail of Tears saw Native American tribes forcibly removed from their ancestral lands and moved elsewhere. The No-Maj Supreme Court ruled in favor of the Native Americans, but their president Andrew Jackson sent their armies to force them from their homes and go west, sometimes at the threat of death. Sometimes, it was because there was good farmland that could be given to Caucasian farmers. Other times, it was because the discovery of gold, like in Dahlonega, Georgia, which forced the Cherokee there to move so the miners could come in. A few No-Maj Native Americans managed to evade them, but at terrible cost. For many of the removed, they were ill-prepared for travelling in winter. Countless men, women and children starved through lack of food or died because of the freezing temperatures. The death toll was outstanding."

A horrific silence had slammed into the room. Ashen-faced, Rose turned towards her mother, "Is it true?" Her eyes were wide. She looked, more than horrified, but aghast, like she was about to be sick.

Harry put down his fork and knife, staring but not seeing at anything. Suddenly, he didn't feel so good.

The other kids didn't look any better. Many of them looked like they were about to be sick, Lily and Hazel were in tears, and Hermione's own children looked beyond appalled.

Marion sighed. "Yes," Hermione whispered. "It's true." She wouldn't meet Rose's eyes.

If possible, Rose looked even more ashen. Her usually fine complexion had dark circles under her eyes.

"Why would they do that, Mummy?" Hugo whispered, his face grey, also with dark circles under his eyes. "Why would granddad and Nana's people-"

Harry winced. "I'm _certain_ your grandparents had _nothing_ to do with that," Marion hastily said. "But it… happens. Besides, the Trail of Tears was over two centuries ago, and the African Slave Trade."

But Luke was shaking his head. "Why didn't Miko and Issi tell me any of this?" he looked as ill as the others.

"Because only the _No-Maj_ Native Americans went through the Trail of Tears," his mother explained. "Magical Native Americans and No-Majes were initially part of the same tribe. But the No-Majes had the same attitude towards magic-users as their Caucasian counterparts. MACUSA and magical United States was formed roughly a century before No-Maj America. Initially, some of the No-Maj Native Americans lauded the ones who used magic to heal and protect the tribes. Others believed them possessed or evil. But the mood turned more towards the latter when the Europeans came. More and more No-Maj Native Americans were either adopting their beliefs willingly or forcibly. The situation grew unbearable for everyone involved, regardless of origin. Eventually, when MACUSA was founded- by wizards and witches of all cultures and ethnic groups in the US- the wizards and witches in the tribes made the decision- hard as it was- to break completely with their No-Maj brethren, thus causing a division.

"They never suffered the Trail of Tears or all the horrible experiences that plagued the No-Maj counterparts- or the divisions, or anything else. If anything, they thrived."

"The Sizemores are a testament to that," Tony muttered. Everyone nearly jumped when they heard the sound of his voice having forgetting he was there. He was drinking coffee and reading _The New York Ghost._ "Look, all that happened centuries ago. So it doesn't matter if there are a few nutcases still hanging around- most No-Majes don't believe magic exists. And most No-Majes are _way_ _over_ the ultra-stupid, idiotic viewpoints of their ancestors." He snorted before he took a gulp. "Anyway, if it _wasn't_ safe, Rappaport's Law wouldn't have been revoked back in the 1960s, now, would it?"

"Rappaport's Law?" Ginny asked. Now everyone did jump. She had been in the kitchen all this time.

Tony grimaced. "In 1790 President Emily Rappaport pushed forth a law. There was this young witch- nah, she didn't deserve to be called a witch. She was as stupid as a mule masquerading as a hodag in school. Her father was the smart one though- Aristotle Twelvetrees, the Keeper of Treasure and Dragots in MACUSA- but his daughter Dorcus, was the dim one." Some of the kids snorted at the name. "She liked parties and doing her hair, and her makeup. 'Till one day she went to a party, met this handsome No-Maj and performed 'tricks' with her wand."

"Oh no." Hermione blanched.

"Uh-huh. Turns out _Bartholomew Barebone,_ was descended from scourers."

"Scourers- like the ones you talked about yesterday?" Albus asked.

"Yup. He believed magic exists, and witches and wizards are evil. She told him all 'bout Ilvermorny and MACUSA because she fell head-over-heels for him." Tony shook his head. "He stole her wand, showed it to some No-Majes- even gave it a good wave though it took him a few feet into the air- and told everyone where they could find all the locations of these 'occult parties'. He got some armed men, waited outside MACUSA and shot some people coming out." Hermione and Rose gave gasps. "Turns out, they were only No-Majes, so Bartholomew got arrested for his crime. Dorcus was arrested too, but the damage was done. The International Statute of Secrecy was broken."

Everybody winced violently. The International Statute of Secrecy was one of the most unbreakable of laws worldwide. "They obliviated just about everybody they could find, but Barebone had printed so many pamphlets, he had gone to the newspapers, there was no way anyone could be sure they had gotten everyone who saw or read anything." Another wince. "Dorcus got imprisoned. Some called for her to have a life sentence. Others wanted her executed."

"Executed?" Hermione squeaked. Tony shook his head. "Dorcus got let out after a year. She never married, and stayed at home with a parrot and a mirror as her only friends. Nobody wanted anything to do with her. And ever since then until the 1960s, everyone was forced to live separate from the No-Majes. You weren't allowed to work with, live with or even talk to them, apart from an excuse me if you stepped on their foot or needed them to move outta your way. Kids had to leave their _wands_ at school, not just stop practicing magic at home. You weren't allowed to marry No-Majes either."

"What?!" Many of the British visitors gasped. "It was too risky," Tony admitted. "You didn't know who you could trust. Not everyone could be let in on the secret. Worse, No-Maj-born kids had to be taken from homes, placed into foster homes and their memories and their families' were wiped."

Hermione's face was positively stark-white. No doubt remembering her own experience when she had needed to modify her parents' memories in order to compel them to move to Australia, and forget they ever had had a daughter. "It was a terrible time," Tony confessed. "Full of terrible people."

"I really shouldn't have told you about all that." Marion cringed. "I'm sorry, I _truly_ am. And during breakfast. But just so you know, one, that America is quite different from Britain." "Yeah, you're telling us," Ron muttered. Hermione and Ginny shot him glares. "Two, that it was a terrible time in history and it's _long-gone_ by now. No-Majes have evolved and so have we. Things are never going back to the way they were before."

"But you said that there are still mu- No-Majes that believe magic exists and wizards are evil," Albus pointed out.

"Very few," Marion said firmly but gently. "Most No-Majes don't have good eyes. They can't see or even go near any of our cities, towns and villages. Or tribal lands and private property. They don't see or hear anything. And if they see something unusual, they'll always try to make sense of it. They've got scholars, scientists and all those people coming in to reassure the bewildered crowds. There's always an explanation for No-Majes."

She sighed. "And I've made you sad. So I think I'm going to bake you a treat."

A chorus of ' _Oh no!'_ and 'It's okay,' sounded through the air, but Marion had already gotten out her wand. She waved it through the air, and a bowlful of plums floated gracefully into the air along with a knife. She waved it again, and conjured a baking tray. The knife sliced the plums in half and the pits vanished, before a bottle of coconut oil and a brush floated up to meet them, oil pouring onto the brush and coating the halved fruit lightly in midair, before the tray went up to meet them and they landed just after glittering sugar appeared and sprinkled itself onto the plums.

"Relax," Marion smiled and Tony winked. "These will brighten anyone's day."

She had waved her wand again and a pot had appeared on the suddenly-lit stove. Bottles of balsamic vinegar, honey, sugar and vanilla extract; and sprigs of rosemary poured themselves in, mixing and heating in an impossibly fast manner due to magic. Meanwhile, the plums had baked magically just as fast and were now popping themselves into individual porcelain mugs before being drizzled with the syrup and topped with fresh cream.

"Tuck in," Marion invited as the mugs floated onto the table.

"Oh wow, guys, she's famous for these," Matt said eagerly. He grabbed a spoon and began tucking in.

Harry tasted the baked plums cautiously. They tasted great. Surprisingly Harry felt himself relaxing and nearly forgot everything they had discussed, as they happily tucked into the treats.

Later, Tony pulled Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione aside. "Listen, Luke didn't mean to upset anyone. You see, years back he had this friend… I can't say what happened to him, because it's not my right. But Luke's friend met a tragic end. He's still not happy about that, and he hasn't recovered, not completely. But they are right about one thing: it's a different world than what you're used to. I'm an auror for the Department of Magical Security. My task is to protect wizards and witches in America, and all magical creatures, as well as conceal them. But there's nothing I can do for No-Maj attacks- MACUSA doesn't have jurisdiction for that. So please, enjoy yourselves here, but stay clear of No-Majes. I know they're not all evil, but it's best to be safe than sorry."

* * *

Cherokee words:

Osiyo _(oh-See-yoh)_ = 'Greetings'- spoken to a tribal elder, teacher, clan matriarch or patriarch or anyone else of high esteem.

Tsilugi _(chee-luh-gi)_ = 'Welcome' -as in '=Welcome back'.

Otahitsu? _(oh-tah-hee-chew)_ = 'How are you?'

Hawa _(hah-wah)=_ 'Alright' or 'Okay.'

Heyatahesdi _(hay-yah-tah-hays-dee)_ = 'Be Careful'.

Wado Udohiyu Ustati _(wah-doh ou-doh-hee-yu ou-chah-tee)_ = 'Thank you very much.'

* * *

 **Note : The Trail of Tears and the African Slave Trade were two of the most appalling crimes in human history. Native Americans endured a five-hundred-year genocide (no exaggeration) and status as second-class citizens at the very least. Even after the loss of their lands and forced migration- otherwise known as ethnic cleansing (which also refers to forced relocation of ethnic minorities), they had to endure what comes after: loss of culture and languages, racial stereotyping, et cetera. The Cherokee and Quileute languages are endangered, Makah ** **and Narragansett are extinct in first-language terms. Parents were told to speak English to their kids, who were also taken to boarding schools (though some parents hid them). The Pocomtuc tribe no longer exists and almost virtually nothing is known about them.**

 **So I hope no one minds if I've taken the liberty to ensuring that no Native American witch or wizard has ever suffered such injustices. As for Hermione saying those things above- like I said, she _didn't_ mean them- she didn't mean them anymore than J.K Rowling meant to use racist words in her writing (I'm not a Hermione-basher either). But even though Hermione may be academically brilliant, it's hard to say what she's like in the outside world amidst society and not danger or books. She was raised by her parents in the muggle world, and to be frank, I don't think her parents know much about what ethnic minorities have suffered (Hermione is white in canon- the Cursed Child doesn't count), only a basic outline, such as poverty. It's like her saying the wrong thing without meaning, to the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest- big mistake, but an honest, harmless one.**


End file.
